


5 Ways John and Rodney Outed Themselves

by chellefic



Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: 5 Things, Coming Out, DADT Repeal, Established Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-19
Updated: 2007-03-19
Packaged: 2017-11-01 02:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 655
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/350957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellefic/pseuds/chellefic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I'm a sucker for the rules changing and John and Rodney coming out, so I wrote it five times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	5 Ways John and Rodney Outed Themselves

**In the Mess**

Elizabeth frowned at Rodney as he took the seat across from her. "Did you injure your eye? It looks puffy."

"It's fine," John said, sitting beside Rodney and across from Teyla, adding a "good morning."

Rodney glared at him as well as he could with a puffy eye. "No thanks to you, Colonel Clumsy."

"It's just a little soap, Rodney."

"You're not a dog. You don't actually have to shake the soap off. You could just step under the spray like a normal person."

"Or I could shower alone."

Elizabeth glanced at Teyla, her eyes widening. Teyla tilted her head to the side as if to say 'what can you do.' Elizabeth didn't have an answer.

**On an Alien Planet**

"It must be at least 40 degrees in the shade." John stopped walking to look at him and Rodney added, almost growling, "Celsius."

John was tired. He was hot, tired and irritated. "If I promise to fill my cheeks with ice as soon as we get back and blow you until it all melts, will you shut the fuck up?"

One, two, three blinks, and a visible swallow, then Rodney said, "Yeah, okay."

They walked for thirty whole meters in silence before Rodney said, "How much ice do you think you can hold?"

Behind them Ronon began to laugh.

**On the Daedalus**

"Colonel Sheppard is that a heart on your arm?"

John resisted the urge to cover the image where it was peaking out from under his jacket sleeve. "Yes, sir. Madison, Rodney's niece, drew it. I'd been told the markers were water soluble." He glared at Rodney who was seated at another table, having an animated conversation with Novak and Hermiod. Well, Rodney's part of it was animated. He didn't appear to be noticing the glare.

"What does U.J. stand for?"

"Uncle John."

"So U. R. is Uncle Rodney?"

"Yes, sir."

Nodding slowly, lips pressed together as though he was suppressing a laugh, Caldwell rose from his seat, coffee mug in hand, and slapped John on the back as he headed out the door.

Caldwell's laughter escaped before the door slid shut behind him.

John hung his head, shaking it slowly from side to side.

**In the Infirmary**

Rodney looked over Keller's shoulder. "I, uh, I need to get some…" He dropped his voice, glancing quickly to both his left and right. "Lube."

She patted his arm, and then took a few steps away, squatting to open a cupboard. "All I have is KY."

Rodney flushed. "That'll do."

Handing Rodney the tube still in its cardboard box, she said, "If I were you, I'd tell the colonel that it's the bottom's job to supply the lube."

Quickly tucking the tube into his pocket, he fled without answering.

**At the SGC**

"So, Shep," Mitchell said, leading him toward the locker room. "You got plans for your vacation?"

"Beach, surf, sunshine."

Mitchell brushed against the hallway wall as he dodged a corporal with an armful of files. "You live in a city on the water."

"Yeah, but the surfing sucks," John said with a half-smile.

"Where you headed?"

"Hawaii."

Mitchell looked wistful or maybe wishful. "I visited the main island once. Best vacation of my life. Grass skirts."

Before John could answer, Rodney came out of a side hallway directly in front of them. "There you are. Here." He shoved some papers into John's hands and kept moving.

John glanced down at them. "Rodney."

"I calculated the best surfing times," he responded without stopping or turning around. He waved backwards. "Busy. See you at 1700."

"What's that?" Mitchell asked, peering over John's shoulder at the color-coded table.

"It's a schedule." Neatly divided into eating, sleeping, surfing and sex.

"What are the purple squares?"

"That's when we're supposed to have sex."

"Huh," Mitchell said. "Maybe you should get Lam to give you some Viagra."

John smacked him in the arm with the schedule.


End file.
